


KRWLNG

by Striding_Feather



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe, Angst and Drama, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Bugs & Insects, Cannibalism, Dirk Strider's Issues, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Hallucinations, Insectoid Aliens, Isolation, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mid-Apocalypse, Minor Jake English/Dirk Strider, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Parasites, Parasitic Aliens, Post-Apocalypse, Psychological Drama, Psychological Horror, Self-Hatred, Starvation, Suicide Attempt, Survival Mindset, Transformation, Unreliable Narrator, body control, fic with art, threats of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22257664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Striding_Feather/pseuds/Striding_Feather
Summary: Being thrown into a world-wide apocalyptic event is not something to be taken lightly, especially when it turns out you might be part of the problem.
Relationships: Dirk Strider & Dave Strider, Jane Crocker & Dirk Strider, Jane Crocker & John Egbert, John Egbert & Dave Strider
Comments: 30
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katreal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katreal/gifts).



“A couple was found dead in the basement of their own home. Police believe it may be related to the string of murders that have been happening all across the country. Our reporter Damien is on the scene; Damien, what’s the situation?”

“Thank you Justine. As you may see, I am currently several streets away from the Brinner household, where the victims were discovered this afternoon. The police have blocked off access to the area due to suspicion of chemical weapons being involved. According to the officers, an unidentifiable liquid was found on the bodies of Ms. and Mr. Brinner, although no further information was provided. For now, the leading officer of the investigation, Wesley Brock, advises residents to stay indoors and avoid opening doors to strangers. While he confirmed that it is most likely related to the Acid Murders, he denied the list of suspects that has been spreading through social media and news networks alike. Back to you Justine.”

“Thank you Damien. Now, while the list of suspects may have been debunked, many criminologists believe the Acid Murders may be caused by a cult. They think that it’s not unreasonable to assume that the world-wide meteor shower event that started two weeks ago could bring about a doomsday cult. Speaking of the event, a NASA researcher has come forward to us to share some of the information gathered so far. We have a reporter on the scene, Jayden, why don’t you…”

Shit, you got distracted again.

What were you…

Right, homework.

You readjust yourself and sink back into the futon, staring back at the empty document on the small screen in front of you. You’ve only really managed to type out three sentences before your attention deficit ripped you away from the way too boring essay. Because it’s not like you were _actually_ interested in the grisly murder scenes on TV.

...Ok, maybe you were _a little_ interested.

You attempt to refocus, the undertaking immediately rendered null and void as something taps against your brain.

Obviously, you are exaggerating. It’s just your younger brother sitting on the other end of the futon, tapping away on his phone. Since your father left for some nondescript business trip, you were hurled into the role of the only responsible semi-adult in the house, and also your brother’s babysitter. 

Something you’ve clearly already failed at, it dawns on you, as you remember the broadcast you inadvertently forced him into watching.

Great, it hasn’t even been two days and you already suck at this.

“You can tell me if you’d rather change the channels, you know?” Dave looks back at you. His shades cover most of his expression, but you can tell he’s a little miffed at the intrusion. “You don’t have to force yourself to watch shit you’d rather avoid just because I’m engrossed in it. Really, I get i-”

“I’m literally only three years younger than you. You don’t have to put black bars over already pixelated manslaughter. They already do that for you. At least admit you’re into some weird snuff shit and get this over with.”

You can almost hear the harsh squeak as your whole posture deflates. You gotta admit, bro knows how to get under your skin sometimes. Fuck, you can’t even come up with a good retort, the heat gathering on your face takes up most of your thought proccess.

Just,

Act chill.

Yeah.

You stretch your arms out in a totally nonchalant way, letting out a strangled “mkay” within your groan. And maybe you could get away with it. It’s all ruined when you flinch from a stab of pain in your right arm though. 

Oh for fu- actually, on second thought, you should really go ahead and check what’s going on with that. 

“Right, well, I’ll be in the bathroom if you need me.” You lift yourself off the futon, catching Dave’s tiny nod in the corner of your vision. You don’t elaborate, and rush off to the promised land.

You shut the door behind you a bit too loudly, but you don’t exactly care. You do lock it though, and go straight for the mirror. You take a moment to glare at your reflection in all of its disheveled glory. 

...Alright, fine, you’re clearly being facetious there. You don’t look _that_ bad. Your gelled hair is still perfectly acceptable, your shades are on straight, and your hoodie is actually staying on your shoulders instead of sliding down to your elbows. Your face is just a little bit red, but you can’t exactly tell your blood to fuck off and flow down, so you’ll live through it. 

Time for more action, less reaction. You throw off your hoodie and proverbially _yeet_ it blindly to the side. You think it landed on the toilet, but right now you’re completely focused on something else.

Your eyes draw towards the bloody bandages on your aching arm. It’s a good visual reminder that you were too busy to change them since this morning. With the bravery of a lone warrior standing against thousands of ballistas, you put your fingers under the bandage and peel i-

OW OW OW OW NO NOPE YOU’RE NOT BRAVE YOU’RE A FUCKING COWARD RUNNING AWAY FROM THE BATTLEFIELD NOT THINKING ABOUT THE IMPENDING EXECUTION FOR TREASON.

Holy shit, ok, this did not work. Clearly. You’re still reeling and gasping from that one. Maybe trying to forcefully rip off a piece of bloodied cloth away from an apparently still not fully healed wound is a bad fucking idea. Gotta knock that one into your brain good before you stupidly attempt it again.

Instead, you scour through the pale cabinets for some tool to help you out with this. You guess scissors should do the job. The thought of cold metal against your hurt skin seems even more unpleasant than the agony you’ve just gone through, so you cut away a good ways away from the wound.

With enough patience and ingenuity, both of which you seem to have limited supplies of, you get the bloody cloth off. Literally bloody, though you could go for the figurative meaning as well.

You forget your clever thought-wordplay the moment you look back at the mirror. You wouldn’t say you expected to see what you did, but you didn’t exactly expect anything else. An almost perfectly round hole the radius of a ball-point pen tip stares back at you, the deep red from inside making you just the tiniest bit queasy. It’s been at least several hours, and this bitch still hasn’t even scabbed over. You reason that there’s only one logical cause - this wound extends far into your body. Way further than just the surface layer of skin.

You really hate the thought of stitches, especially for something that seems so small on the surface, but at this point you wouldn’t be surprised if they were necessary. How would that even work? Would they have to stitch the entire length of the wound to turn it into a collapsing tunnel? Or…

Your thoughts being interjected with something else seems to be the norm for you. The moment you feel warmth pooling against the finger you’ve been poking the hole with is just another one of those things. Of course you fucking reopened it. Though can you even call it reopening when it was never closed in the first place?

Whatever, you’ll leave the semantics for some other time. You reach for the overstocked first aid kit and find a fresh roll of bandages. It’s a good thing your dad knows how much you and your brother injure yourselves on a daily basis, otherwise you’d be left crying on the bathroom floor, bleeding all over the pristine white tiles. 

It takes you about a minute to wrap up your wound, and then another half to find your hoodie again. Turns out it didn’t fall on the toilet, much to your disappointment. Just ended up in a heap on the floor among the mess that is your makeshift laundry pile. Flush the toilet for good measure, and head back out. Once you remember to unlock the door before shoving your face into it, that is. You’re really just a mess today, huh.

Your truly glorious exit gets sidetracked by the voice of your brother. It’s quite the curiosity, and perhaps a bit of a concern as well, since Dave almost never raises his volume above a goddamn mumble. If you can hear him all the way out here… You should- no, you _need_ to check up on him.

You enter the room as casually as your overwhelming apprehension can allow. That is to say, if Dave looked at you, he would chortle to himself and roll his eyes, maybe even ask you what got you so rattled. But he doesn’t even spare you a glance. It’s not that difficult to reason out why once you get closer - Dave’s attention is completely on his phone and the call he is currently having. His mouth rattling off so fast you can barely understand him.

You decide not to interfere until he’s done, so you sneak your way through the room and plop back on your place on the futon. You pretend to direct your attention to the news, but in reality you keep glancing back at your brother, watching his eyebrows frown and tense up as his voice gets louder and more desperate.

Then he curses under his breath and looks at his phone in frustration, before putting it away with a sigh. You can only guess his call just disconnected. You give him some space to breathe and calm down after whatever just happened, watching as he keeps bringing the phone back up to his ear to no avail, before you decide to get yourself involved.

“What’s up?”

Dave turns to you, and you’re sure he’s about to tell you off, but then his face softens with another sigh.

“John just called.”

He leans back into the futon with a pause. You nod to let him know to keep going.

“I just- Okay. So John called, right? Completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary, just your average friendly convo to catch up and say hello, right? Wrong. The moment I pick up, I hear him fucking breathe straight into the mic like he’s having goddamn asthma, so I ask him ‘Yo what’s going on, are you having a panic attack out there?’. Right, I ask him, and he comes back with a ‘There’s people outside my house.’ all shaky and breathy like he’s whispering into my ear while we’re both hiding in a closet from the chainsaw massacre guy. Anyway, so I ask him what he means, and he tells me, there’s a fucking mob outside on the streets. Apparently they’re yelling something about the police and breaking into people’s homes, and he and his sister are freaking out because their Dad went to get groceries at the most optimal timing possible in the Solar System, and by that I mean his timing is worse than telling someone they’re getting a vegan burger and then they immediately find a bone in it.”

Dave takes a deep breath.

“Basically. After that, John just up and disconnected, and I can’t call him back. There, that’s the story.”

You watch your brother’s face strain as he forces himself to regain composure. You… have no idea what to say. You can’t just tell him that everything will be alright, because it’s just an empty platitude. It’s nothing of substance. He’ll just brush it off anyway.

You can’t really just affirm what he’s saying either. How would you even go about that? _Oh yeah, that’s fucked up, guess you’re never gonna see your friend John again._ No, that’s not how it fucking works. You’d just make everything worse.

You open your mouth to say something when the Breaking News jingle blares through the speakers. Both you and Dave turn towards the TV, and the moment camera footage is shown, you’re both scrambling up from the futon. In the window next to the news lady, a drone view of a neighbourhood is shown. Jane and John’s neighbourhood. With hundreds, perhaps even thousands of people spilling on the streets.

“This just in, riots have broken out in Maple Valley over police accusedly withholding information about the Acid Murders. Thousands of residents are gathering on the streets and forcing their way towards the blocked off Brinner Residence. Riot teams have already been dispatched to the scene and are currently holding off the mob. We will keep you updated should any developments arise.”

...Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

This...

This can’t be happening.

Right?

Nothing this crazy could happen to anyone you know just like that out of nowhere, right?

This shit only happens in movies or video games, not in real life.

It’s just a prank, a jape, a dream, isn’t it?

It must be.

...

But if so, then why do you feel your chest aching with anxiety? Why are your lungs struggling to fulfill their basic function?

Why are you  _ so scared _ ?

...You have to check up on her.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, the lock screen staring back at you. Shivering to the rhythm of your own unstable hand.

She has to be fine.

She wouldn't let herself get hurt like that.

You especially know how strong she is.

You scroll down the contact list and dial Jane’s number. What greets you is silence, deafening and empty. A dark pit of uncertainty. It stretches on for eternity, locking you in a breathless wait for reassurance.

She’s fine.

She has to be.

...

...

“Service unavailable, please try again later.”

Fuck.  _ Fuck. FUCK. _

Ok, no, calm down, it’s just your connection being shit. Totally. It has nothing to do with the possibility of Jane’s phone being out of battery, or the phone line being completely down leaving you with no way of contacting her, or something happening to her when she’s literally in the same neighbourhood as a fucking murder cult-

Stop it.

You’re just making your panic worse.

Message her. The internet is still up. Use it.

TT: Jane?  
TT: I saw the news.  
TT: Are you alright?  
TT: Jane answer me.  
TT: I can’t call you, it’s not even sending a signal.  
TT: Jane?  
TT: Hello?  
TT: Please tell me you’re alright.

You wait a few seconds. 

Then a few more. 

Then a minute. Two minutes. Five.

You’re getting nowhere.

You look to your side. Dave is already back to sitting on the futon, furiously tapping away at his phone. Same issues most likely.

Following his example, you fall back onto the makeshift couch, the frame creaking under the sudden impact.

You...

Don’t know what to do.

You’re so tired.

Absentmindedly, your hand reaches over your forgotten laptop to the table holding some snacks.

You were supposed to have them with your homework.

Whatever, you don’t give a shit about that anymore.

You just need a distraction.

Your fingers curl around an opened can and bring it to your lips. The artificial, somewhat sour flavor fills your mouth with caffeinated goodness.

And you chug.

And chug.

Until there’s no more liquid left to flow down your throat.

You pull the can away and feel a shudder run a marathon down your back. Then your whole body proceeds to join the fidgeting wave your spine started after the energy spike won first place. The difference between a stadium audience and your flesh-based racetrack is that the wave  _ doesn’t stop _ . You continue to jitter even as you try to forcefully tense your muscles against the involuntary movements.

Holy  _ shit _ did you overdo it big time.

What  _ was _ in that can? Crack? Did you just drink liquid fucking crack?

Whatever it was, you drop that line of thought the moment your eyes settle on the phone still in your hand. The unanswered chatlog burning your eyes.

You can’t just sit around doing jackshit.

You gotta do  _ something _ .

_ Anything _ .

“Dirk? Are you ok?”

You turn to look at Dave when you notice you’re standing up again. The can sits crushed in your twitching fist, the metal digging into your palm. Shit, you’re already moving before your brain can process you’re doing it and  _ actually let you know _ .

“Bro, you trippin’ or something? Did your Monster get spiced with coke? Seriously though, you’re bugging out all over the place, are you sure you don’t wanna sit down?”

Fuck, thinking of a response is just wasting your time.

You got shit to do.

“I’m going out.” You throw the words out at noone in particular and begin your march to the door. It’s gonna be fine, just get to Egberts’, swoop in, and-

“You’re going to check on them, aren’t you?”

You stop dead in your tracks to look back. As much as you like to pride yourself in being an emotional ninja, you’re as transparent as a perfectly cleaned glass pane it seems.

“No-” You begin to stammer out. “No I’m- I’m  _ not _ \- I just-” But even that fails when your eyes meet Dave’s shaded gaze. Fuck, you really can’t hide anything from him when he’s staring at you like that. You sigh in defeat, letting yourself slouch, awkwardly lopsided. “Alright. Yeah, I am.”

Dave’s eyebrows lift up from behind his shades.

“I’m coming with-” “No. Hell no. No you fucking aren’t.” You don’t need to let him finish his sentence to know exactly what he wants to ask. 

You’re not going to take the kid you’re supposed to be watching over with you when leaving for a dangerous mission that completely contradicts your previous objective of  _ Watch the Fucking Kid. _

Dave pouts at you and crosses his arms in a ritualistic display of a childish tantrum. You can already tell what he’s goi-

“Oh come on! Why not?” ...Yup, just as you thought.

“Between Jane killing me for being irresponsible, John killing me in case you get hurt, and Darren killing me for both, I’d say I have a good case here. And that’s not mentioning the environmental hazards in a neighbourhood with a  _ riot and a recent murder _ going on in its recent history.”

“But- But John-!”

“ _ Dave. _ ” Your voice comes out more stern than you wanted, but it works in shutting your brother up. He keeps his eyes locked with yours for another few seconds before turning away and curling up on the futon. From the side, you can see his eyes looking down on the floor. Glistening. Congratulations, you just made him cry, keep it going asshole.

You let out a sigh and go to crouch in Dave’s field of vision.

“Hey, listen.” He just barely looks up at you. “I know how much you want to go. Really, I do. But I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He doesn’t respond, at all. You take another deep breath.

“I promise I’ll make sure John is safe, alright? I’ll even bring him here if it’s needed. Just please, stay here. Keep the doors locked and don’t open for anyone but me, got it?”

Dave sniffles and slowly nods, not taking his gaze away from the floor.

“Alright, good. I’ll be back soon.”

You get up and give him a pat on the shoulder. It ends up a bit messy since your arm is still having a bunch of mini-seizures, but the tiny smile on Dave’s face tells you he appreciated it.

“Take care lil’ bro.”

With one last wave goodbye, you sweep up your dad’s car keys and go out the front door. You wait a few seconds and, thankfully, you hear the door lock behind you. That’s one weight off your shoulders.

Now, you gotta make up for the lost time. You don’t even bother looking at the elevator. The screen showing which level it’s on has been broken for months, and your caffeinated ass won’t be able to handle waiting for it to go both up and down without digging out a hole with your pacing.

Stairs it is then.

With the faintest sense of hesitation, you run up and vault over the railing, changing your direction mid-air to land back on the stairs. 

The moment your foot hits a step, you’re off. 

You let your legs move on their own, skipping two-three steps at a time. 

Each turn becomes a drift, only your arms keeping you from tripping.

A floor passes you by, then another, then they all fly by you as you focus on one thing. 

Descent.

You shove some poor old man out of the way, and disappear before he can yell out “Hey!”.

Hands slip on the railing, avoiding burns through gloves alone.

Legs become nothing but a blur.

Numbers zoom past your vision.

You don’t pay attention to what floor you’re on.

You just.

Run.

And then.

_ DING! _

You stop right before the glass door leading outside. Your head whirls around in unison with the pounding in your brain, just in time to see...

Dave.

Coming out of the elevator.

Staring right.

At.

You.

_ Motherfu- _

“So uh, I guess you beat your new record? I don’t think you ever outran the wonkavator before.” He scratches at the side of his face, lips pulled up in the most subtle approximation of a nervous smile.

You don’t want to scare him off by yelling at him or anything. You get it, the dude couldn’t hold his horses. He wanted to join you, so he did. Can’t fault him for that.

You would be lying if you pretended you weren’t fucking fuming though.

Dave seems to sense that, or maybe you just don’t notice how threatening your posture may be, because he backs a few steps away from you.

“Hey hey hey hey hey hey-” He puts up his hands defensively. “I did lock the door again once I went out at least. That counts for something, right?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and shake your head. You don’t get paid enough for this.

“Alright,  _ fine _ .” You sigh. Dave immediately lights up. “You can come. Getting you back up would take too long, so let’s go.”

You wave him over, to which he responds by skipping over to you. “You’re staying in the car though.”

“Wha?” Dave deflates in an instant. “Come  _ oooooon _ .”

“Oh shut up. I shouldn’t be taking you with me at all, so you better appreciate it.”

“Hmph.”

You roll your eyes at yet another pout, and lead the way outside to your dad’s car.

It’s perfectly clear to you that this is a horrible idea. Not only do you have just a learner’s permit, but the epic parkour down the stairs did absolutely nothing to get rid of the jitters after the fact.

But by this point ‘bad ideas’ is your middle name, so you’ll take what you can get.

You usher Dave to the passenger seat, shut the door, and slide across the hood of the car to get to your side. You don’t even bother with your seatbelts, though you do make a glance check for Dave’s.

Start the bad boy up and you gas out of the parking lot, leaving cars honking behind you when you cut in front of them. Sorry not sorry, you got a friend to save.

The ride quickly devolves to awkward silence, with Dave returning to the futile attempts of calling John, and you focusing on the road ahead. 

That’s a lie, you only care about getting to your destination asap. You’re barely paying attention to what’s actually going on around you, earning you some valuable life experience with being the target of road rage. You think you almost hit some lady on the crosswalk, but you drive away before she can curse you out.

The only thing keeping the car from being completely quiet is the radio playing some random tunes and your own fingers impatiently tapping against the wheel whenever you’re forced to stop.

Every passing minute gets you more agitated and reckless, and it takes you, in your own opinion, way too long to get to the suburbs.

As you expertly maneuver the maze of streets using the one path inscribed in your brain, a familiar sound resonates through the interior of the vehicle.

The Breaking News jingle plays on the radio. Dave immediately turns up the volume.

“This just in, the situation in Maple Valley has worsened. Police have put up a blockade around the neighbourhood, with no civilian allowed to enter or exit the perimeter. According to our reporter on the scene, authorities were notified of multiple injuries and deaths before phone lines were cut. We ask for your patience as we gather more information.”

Shit. This is bad.

Dave looks at you with the same distressed expression you imagine you have right now. You know exactly what you have to do.

You speed towards Maple Valley, your bro’s  _ oomph _ bouncing off your ears as he’s shoved against his seat by the sudden movement.

Drifting your way through the narrow roads, you eventually make it.

And then you brake. Hard. The cloud of dust and sand alerts several of the officers among the wall of police cars and riot shields in front of you. It’s just like they said on the news. No way in. No way out.

One of the men signals you to pull over. As much as you’ve been ignoring road laws for the past half an hour, you don’t want to actually anger law enforcement. So you do as you’re told.

You roll down your window as the cop comes up to your car. You can feel Dave grab onto your hoodie in nervousness.

“Sir, are you aware this road is blocked off?” His voice is gruff, and from the way he leans down to look at you through your window, you can tell you don’t want to get into a fight with him. Lying on the other hand...

“I’m sorry officer, I was going back home when I heard the news.” Despite how shaky your voice is, you try your best to act calm. You even look around performatively. “Is there any way I could get in? I’m already late for dinner.”

The man furrows his eyebrows at you. Shit, you’re still jittery, aren't you?

“Say, are you sure you should even be driving around like... this?”

He thinks you’re on drugs. Of course he does.

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine, sir. I just had too much coffee on an empty stomach not too long ago, so it will pass.” You hope so at least. “Could you, just, like..." You gesture at the wall of police cars. “Make some space so I could drive in? My sister must be worried sick.”

The officer shakes his head and crosses his arms. “Turn around, the area is under quarantine. If you’re hungry go to a restaurant or something.”

...Quarantine?

“But, sir, my sister!” You stop him just as he’s about to turn away. The scowl on his face is unmistakable. “I tried calling her and the service keeps being unavailable! How am I supposed to let her know I’m fine?”

“Look kid.” He presses his hand to his temple. “Just find somewhere safe and wait it out, alright? If your sister’s smart, she’ll be doing the same. Now go, I have more things to worry about right now.”

You’re this close to prodding him for details, but you just nod instead. The cop sighs and walks away, back to his place in the wall. You can already imagine him gossiping about some twitchy coffee kid trying to get to his sister. 

You rub your eyes and turn the engine back on, hearing Dave settle back into his seat. Right, he was probably hiding behind you this whole time. Smart kid.

You back up from the spot you parked, turn around, and start to drive away.

“Wait- What are you doing?!” Dave’s immediately making his dissatisfaction known. “Are you really gonna listen to that wrinkly ass dude?”

You chuckle at the comment. “Yeah, what did you think I was gonna do?”

Dave sits back, crossing his arms and thinking intently. “I don’t know... Just crash your way through them and speed off? Screaming ‘Fuck the police!’ in the process?”

You shake your head with another snort. “No way in hell bro. Best case scenario we’d get arrested, worst case scenario - we get fucking gunned down. Either way, we wouldn’t even come close to checking on Jane.” Dave whines as he slips further down.

You pat him on the head, which causes him to only further recede into the seat.

“That doesn’t mean I’m giving up though.” Your bro perks up a tiny bit. “If we can’t drive in from the front, we’re just gonna have to sneak in from the back.”

As if you planned it, you stop right as you say that. With your car parked a good few feet away in a parking lot completely hidden by trees.

“Note - by ‘we’, I mean ‘me’. Got it?”

“Aaaaawwww.” Dave sinks down yet again.

The two of you stare each other down for a while, until your bro yields.

“Yeah yeah, fine, just remember that if you lock the doors you’re gonna get accused of leaving a child to freeze all alone in a car they can’t get out of, and you just made a big point about not wanting to piss off the officers, didn’t you?”

“... You’re just gonna follow me anyway, aren’t you?” Dave just shrugs at you in response. This kid will give you a fucking aneurysm one day, you’re sure of it.

“Ok, you can come as long as you can keep up with me. Happy?”

Judging from Dave’s toothy grin and the enthusiasm with which he’s bouncing out of the car, yes. 

You follow his example and get out as well, though you’re less excited to be there, and more anxious and twitchy. You also remember to lock the car, since you’re definitely going to be coming back home after all of this.

A glance around gives you an idea of where to go. The cop-wall dissipates the further it is from the roads. You’ll have to make a curve around the neighbourhood first to avoid getting spotted, then find a green area to sneak through past the blockade, and then make your way through backyards until you reach the Egberts.

Easy peasy, nothing complicated at all.

With the path roughly mapped out in your head, you wave Dave over to follow your lead. Once you shush him enough to get the idea of making absolutely no noise across, you’re ready to set out.

The afternoon sun beams down at the both of you as you take your leisurely jog around the perimeter, using greenery and houses as cover. If not for the constant reminders of police whenever you have to run from one hiding place to another, today would be pretty much indistinguishable from any other day around here.

You don’t even realise when you reach the stopping point you chose. From here on out, the true mission begins. You look back to see Dave lagging a few feet behind, which doesn’t surprise you too much. You expected he would slow you down, so really, you can only blame yourself for not locking the kid in the car like you were planning to.

You look out from behind the cover of some house’s white painted wall.

The spot you picked for the next part of the plan was clear of surveillance. Bingo.

“Hey, come on! Get over here!” You whisper-yell at Dave, watching as he stumbles towards you and proceeds to lean against your cover wall, gasping for air.

“You know. If you didn’t,  _ haah _ , drink so much of that,  _ haah _ , cocaine-laced energy drink,  _ haaaah _ , I wouldn’t need to chase you like this.” He grumbles without even looking at you.

You might as well star in sighing olympics, since that’s all you’ve been doing this whole goddamn day. This time being no exception.

“Look, I’m trying my best to waste as little time as possible.” Despite how much you’ve been failing that. “Just get on my back if you’re so tired. I can’t risk you getting caught either, so...” You shrug and reach out your arms in a gesture of proposition. “You in, or would you rather go back and guard the car?”

Dave begrudgingly complies with the first option and climbs onto you piggyback ride style. You don’t even notice he’s up until he wraps his arms around your neck and shoulders. You... guess caffeine mixed with slowly building adrenaline could do that. Yeah, that definitely makes sense.

Without any further distractions, you dash towards the chosen spot, weaving your way through some branches and bushes until you reach your first fence. 

That means you made it through unnoticed.

What is more concerning is the almost total silence around you. Even the wind seems to be completely still. No screaming, no distant running around. Nothing. You can’t tell if that’s supposed to reassure you or creep you out.

Either way it’s not going to stop you. 

With a good jump, you heave yourself over the first fence. Curiously, you glance into the inside of the house you just encroached on. There’s nobody inside. Just a complete mess with the lights off.

...You probably shouldn’t be trying to spy on random strangers, especially if you’re trespassing at the same time.

Turning your attention to the main objective at hand, you continue your suburban trek.

You vault over some lower fences, climb over some chain-link ones, suffer through some hedges, and even just straight up run through oddly human-shaped holes.

You hate to admit it, but you have no fucking clue where you’re going outside of a very general direction.

When you finally find a break between houses big enough to observe the situation from a safe distance, you feel a pit in your stomach.

The streets.

They’re fucking empty.

There’s no distant screaming, no police patrolling, nothing.

Just ripped off planks and torn trash bags spilling over the road. You hope the puddles and smears of liquid aren’t what you think they are. You also ignore the suspicious lumps from which the dark fluid seeps. You don’t want to think about the implications of all that, not right now.

“Seems like some overreaction might be at play here. We should have seen something by now. Anything. They said it was a riot, not a ghost town.” Dave’s shaky whispering drones on in your ear. He’s right. Something’s clearly wrong.

After passing a few more houses, you finally sneak a peek of a street sign. Lucky for you, it’s the street you’re looking for. Your eyes turn to the familiar abode on the other side of the road.

Finally, you made it. Took you long enough.

You dash towards the house, but as you get closer, your legs begin to slow down on their own. Letting you take everything in.

The white picket fence laid at the front, broken and torn apart. The remains of the playground weren’t in a much better shape either, all scrawled over and ripped out of the ground. You don’t want to think about the blood on the swingset, or what seems to be a severed human arm lying right next to it, but your gaze gets pulled towards them anyway. 

There’s no way you can deny what you’re seeing anymore. The pounding rising in your ears to the beat of your own ever-increasing heartbeat deafens you.

You feel Dave’s grip tighten around your neck. It joins the prickling, itching feeling at the back of your head. You shouldn’t be out in the open like this. Not with whatever the fuck is going on around here.

Trusting your gut reaction, you sprint towards the back of the house, behind the tree by the road. You need cover, any will suffice. 

You come to a sudden stop when something else catches your attention though.

The crimson-laced glisten among the grass confirms your worst nightmares.

The window to the living room is broken.

The window. 

It’s broken.

_ Something _ broke it.

You hope you’re not too late.


	3. Chapter 3

Silence swallows the both of you whole, drilling into your already unsteady core to force your breathing into a crawl.

Neither you nor your brother wants to make any sound.

The air hangs heavy on your shoulders, pressing down, suffocating.

You shouldn’t be here.

And you can’t wait here much longer.

“Off.”

Your hiss pierces through the surrounding quiet stillness, giving your lungs the sign that, yes, you can breathe again.

Dave gets the idea. Your arms let go of his shivering frame, and you hear the dull thud behind you once he jumps off.

You give the area around you another scanning glance. Nothing. There’s nobody around.

“Alright, stay here. I’ll be back in a sec. If you hear anything coming, hide. Got it?”

Dave jerks his head up and down in an approximation of a nod. He doesn’t even move from the spot you dropped him at.

You nod back and leave him standing behind the tree. You know he’ll be fine. He won’t move. Not now.

Scouring the area, you first investigate the broken window. The edges of the glass left over in the frame threaten you with the familiar crimson glimmering in the waning sunlight. You’ll need to jump through it if you don’t want your own life juice to join the paint job.

You peer inside. The light is on, but nobody is around as far as you can tell. The room itself is in disarray. Furniture thrown around and left lying wherever it landed. A pile of clothes was haphazardly thrown on the couch. You think you see a phone among the fabric? Whoever was in that room before you got here must have been in a hurry to leave.

You give a cursory glance to the floor under the window as well. Just as you expected, shards were waiting there too, primed for some poor fool to drop and roll on through.

Fuck that noise, there’s gotta be a better way in.

You swing by the front door, and sure enough, it was locked. Dave did say Jane’s dad left for groceries, it’s not unreasonable to think he’d lock the door behind him. You try the backdoor with the same end result.

As a last ditch effort, you let your thoughts wander until they hit something on their aimless drive. A road block, except that road block is actually a useful piece of information. A memory of a previous visit. A secret given to you by your friend in case of emergencies.

There’s a backdoor key hidden in the tire swing. Jane entrusted that clue to you a few weeks ago. She probably expected you to use it in case you came by while they weren’t home so you could let yourself in. 

This situation is a bit different from that, but you decide it’s reasonable enough to assume she wouldn’t be mad if you used her tip right now.

And so you begin your search. Locating the stray tire isn’t as hard as you were worrying it would be, and neither is locating the hard metal piece lodged into the warm rubber. 

The key fits perfectly, and the backdoor swings open with the faintest of creaks. Light floods into the dim pantry. Everything’s quiet. Still. Unmoving. You ragged breathing and nervous tapping against the doorframe are the only things breaking the silence, echoing in your head. 

Saying you don’t feel welcome would be an understatement.

You take your first step inside, the smothering musty air envelops you as you head towards the only other door in this room. 

The kitchen is immediately more welcoming, if only by a tiny bit. The lights are on for one, and the moist musk of the pantry gives way to the sweet smell of unfinished pastries. The bowl full of unmixed dough ingredients gives you an idea as to why Jane’s dad had to go out.

You shut the door behind you, not wanting to let the pleasant warmth leave the room just yet. You’re desperate to soothe your anxiety with anything you can get.

Stalling. That’s what you’re doing right now.

You’re fucking terrified of facing whatever is waiting for you in the house proper. 

You’re fully aware of the possibility of opening the door to another severed limb, or even worse, a corpse to which that imaginary limb could belong to.

And yet, the longer you wait with your hand fidgeting over the doorknob, the higher the chance of such a sight becomes.

So why aren’t you in a hurry to save her?

Dave would certainly be laughing at your indecision right now, if he wasn’t stuck in a fear paralysis of his own.

He’d hate you if you let John get hurt.

You’re the stronger one.

You have to take responsibility.

_ So fucking take it. _

You fingers wrap around the doorknob, and with a deep inhale, you turn it.

The door gives way.

You peek inside and enter.

The room uncovers itself to you, and it’s in a worse state than you thought. Every shelf in sight is tipped over, decorations and antiques spilling broken pieces across the floor. Cracks run along the whole screen of the TV, the faintest of white noise accompanying the flashing static. 

Your gaze turns to the broken window. A pool of blood sits under the glass shards, smearing outward before fading out. Whatever entered through here didn’t leave any trails for you to follow.

Even more reason to be on high alert.

You quietly explore the room, looking through all the hiding places you can imagine to no luck. No Jane hiding behind a shelf ready to strike. No John huddled behind the couch mentally preparing himself for another ambush.

This is both reassuring and further unnerving.

You don’t get to further ponder though, because your attention is snapped back to reality by a loud ringtone. The phone on the couch. If it’s John’s, then it must mean Dave got through-

The only warning you get is an inhuman moan.

You instinctively lurch forward. Something whizzes past your back, mere inches away.

You break your fall with a roll and whip around to face the attacker as you stand up again.

The sight you’re met with makes you back away a few steps.

You’re face to face with another cop, this one twitching and shambling towards you, like he’s on drugs or some shit. That assumption shatters mere moments later as you get a better look at him. His posture is all lopsided and bent at awkward angles. Skin gray and dry and taut against his insides. Face stained in fresh scarlet still dripping down his chin. And then there were his eyes, unmoving, unfocused, dull and glassy.  _ Dead. _

The dude charges at you, and  _ oh shit that’s faster than you thought GET OUT DODGE NOW. _

You scamper to the side, arm whooshing by you, and keep sprinting.

You need as much distance as you can get.

The impending wall makes you spin around, which you exploit to snatch a stray floor lamp.

Your grip is sweaty, but the handle should make a good enough block-

Arms smash into you and you get hurled at the wall. A snap reaches your ears as your back crashes against the hard surface. Lungs spasm, forcing out a choking gasp. Legs crumple up beneath you. The world flashes white.

And then reality blinks back, swaying. The guy starts shuffling in your direction. Going for another strike.

You glance down at your hands, the lamp handle broken in two. You get what it means.

One more hit and you’re out.

You heave yourself up into a proper stance and watch.

The freak’s pace quickens.

Wait for it.

He breaks into a sprint.

_ Wait for it. _

He advances on you and-

_ NOW. _

You thrust the sharp handle into his side, leaving him reeling and shrieking. Not wasting any time, you launch yourself and bolt towards the kitchen.

The thumping of your feet is joined by another, and you peek back. The attacker is back to chasing you, the damage not bothering him.

_ You can’t let him out. _

_ Dave’s still out there. _

The instant that thought hits you, you turn on your heel. You have to end it here,  _ now _ .

He doesn’t see you come barreling towards him. You brace as your side slams him into the wall, the crunch echoing throughout the room.

Then you grasp his head and  _ bang _ it against the corner. Again. And again.  _ And again. _

Finally, you let go. 

And you breathe.

Heavily.

You take a wobbly step back, your knees threatening to buckle under you.

The body slides down to the floor. Limp. Motionless. It reveals a large crack in the wall, stained red.

You…

You actually just did that.

You just killed a dude with your own bare hands.

This is… you really don’t want to think about this right now. Or at any point in the future.

Right now, your objective is the Egberts. Not the murky dread trying to creep its way in. Speaking of which, you should check upstairs. It’s the only other place they could be hiding at this very moment.

The momentary relief birthed from the fact the stairs aren’t made from wood, and as such don’t creak with each of your unsteady steps, is immeasurable. This place doesn’t need to be even more unsettling than it already has been.

Fuck it’s hard to breathe though.

You’d normally chalk it up to being physically exhausted, but this time it feels different. It’s almost like your ribcage itself is somehow constricting on your poor overworked lungs. It’s really uncomfortable, and you end up pausing on the stairs several times, always looking back at the sprawled out corpse behind you.

You shouldn’t be thinking about it so much.

What’s done is done.

If you didn’t finish him off, he would have gone after someone else.

Just ignore it for now.

You shake off your moral crisis by the time you reach the top floor. Your legs lead you straight to the door to Jane’s room. For whatever reason, you get the feeling that’s where they are, even though there’s several different rooms upstairs for both of them to hide in.

It might be the fact that the lock to John’s room was broken last time you were here.

It’s definitely you wanting to see Jane and confirm she didn’t get hurt in an altercation.

You knock on the door.

Silence.

“Hello?” You knock again. “Jane, are you there?”

You hear shuffling from the other side, but still no response.

“Jane, it’s me, Dirk. I’m here to get you and your bro outta there. Can you hear me?”

A few moments pass before you hear a muffled voice from the other side.

“Dirk? Are you really here?”

You sigh in relief. “Yeah, I’m here. Are you alright? Did you get hurt? I saw the-”

“Prove you’re Dirk Strider!”

... _ What. _

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me! Prove to me you’re not bluffing to lure me out.”

In a normal situation, you’d probably be annoyed with being doubted like this. Hell you’re still frustrated anyway. But the way Jane’s voice quivers and how you almost died yourself lets you know to let things slide a bit. A goddamn zombie broke into her house, of course she’d be suspicious.

“Alright... fine. What do I need to do?”

“I’ll ask you a few questions. Things you could answer only if you were the real Strider. Does that sound fair?”

“Yeah, whatever. Just on with the questions Crocker.”

You hear a faint  _ hmph _ behind the door, which you can’t help but smirk at. It’s her own fault she made you call her by her mother’s name.

“Well, either way, let’s see…” Is that shuffling papers you hear? You don’t get to think about it too much before Jane throws her first question at you. “What’s your nickname for Little Sebastian?”

“...Seriously?”

“Is that your final answer?”

You enunciate your sigh so hard you’re practically saying the word instead of actually sighing.

“No, no, I’ll play along. It’s Huggy Bear.”

You hear something writing on paper. You think you also hear John mumble something in the background, but it’s too distant for you to understand, and Jane shushes him before you can listen in.

“Alright, next, what cupcakes did I make for your seventeenth birthday?”

“Cocoa flavor with nuts inside, white chocolate drizzle, dark chocolate sprinkles.”

“Mhm. What’s your father’s name?”

“Darren.”

“Aaaand how and when did we first meet?”

She really is going in hard with these.

“You saw me fight with another kid and broke it up. Then instead of leading me to a nearby adult like any normal child should, you started interrogating me and dragged me to _ your school’s _ nurse, even though I didn’t attend there. It was, uh, four years ago? Five? Fuck I never remember what grade you were in at the time.”

Something shuffles on the other side again, and the door slowly creaks open. You peer inside, and find a careful bespectacled eye looking back at you. It shoots wide open and-

_ OOF. _

You almost fall backwards when Jane throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around you in a tight embrace. The sudden pressure on your already aching back makes you yelp, much to your embarrassment.

“Goodness Dirk! I’m so glad to see you, I was so worried!”

She lets go of you when you grunt in response, and briskly looks you over before turning to look at you again. You notice her messed up hair, the slightly crooked glasses, the sweat dripping down her forehead, the faltering smile under those exhausted and worried eyes locked with yours.

“Are you alright? You look quite awful.” She sounds genuinely concerned as she holds your hand with her own. While you can’t deny your spine feels like it got crushed, and that your whole body pulses with dulling pain, and that your other hand is sticky with a dead guy’s blood (which you’re discreetly wiping off on your dark pants right now), and you’re still all fidgety and twitchy cause the caffeine just refuses to wear off now that adrenaline joined the party, and…

Ok yeah, you might be in need of medical attention by now.

But you’re just gonna ignore that for now like the rest of your problems. Truly a foolproof strategy.

“I’m fine, really. Just got in a scuffle with the fucker downstairs is all.”

Jane’s polite smile drops into wild fear the second you mention downstairs. “ _ WHAT? _ ”

Ah shit, you said too much didn’t you.

John, who you didn’t notice until now, stumbles out the door and up to Jane’s side, clutching a hammer in his hands. Poor kid is shaking all over. “Then- all that noise-”

He doesn’t finish his thought when Jane’s high-pitched interjection cuts him off. “ARE YOU MENTAL? I only managed to get close enough to knock it out with a frying pan, and you  _ FOUGHT IT _ ?!”

“I- hold on-!” Jane starts dragging you into her room before you can fully respond. “Wait- Chill-  _ Calm down! _ ” You yank your hand back.

“Stop panicking, for Jesus H. Dick’s sake. It’s safe, I promise. The dude’s dead. Not like zombie-dead like he was before, I’m talking actually dead-dead. Double dead, even. Brain crushed and lungs no longer working-dead. Seriously, I’m pretty sure I cracked his skull or something.”

John furrows his eyebrows in concerned confusion. Jane looks as incredulous as ever, crossed arms and all. You can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Just go get your things already and let’s go. I’m kind of in a hurry. I doubt this peace will last forever.” You’re pretty sure your exasperation is clear in your voice, because Jane’s gaze softens.

“Alright, alright. Come on John, let’s pack up.” She takes John’s hand and leads him to his bedroom, presumably to get some of his clothes. You use that moment to take a peek in Jane’s.

It looks like how you remember it, though you do notice a few differences. The frying pan Jane mentioned is lying on the floor, next to a... stack of papers. You notice the one on the top has your name written on it, alongside the questions she asked you with checkmarks next to them. 

Did she really write out identity-proving interviews for everyone she knows? This feels highly impractical, yet also very on brand of her.

Oh, and there’s also an opened travel bag on the bed. You can see a few different-colored pieces of attire inside. It’s not a lot though. You guess Jane was starting to get ready to head out when you rudely distracted her.

...

Damn they’re really taking their sweet ass time now, aren’t they? You thought you hurried them up but apparently that didn’t fucking work.

You really need to get out of here soon.

Dave is-

Fuck he’s outside.

Without anything to protect himself.

All alone.

Waiting for you to pick him back up after you abandoned him like that.

How the  _ fuck _ did you think that was a good idea?!

You rush in and grab Jane’s partially packed baggage. Whatever, you’ll give her your own stuff if she didn’t take enough.

Then, you follow them.

Your way too forceful entrance visibly startles both of them, Jane jumping up from her kneeling position. She’s about to say something when you interject.

“We have to go  _ now _ .”

You throw Jane her bag, which she barely manages to catch. John scrambles to zip up his own, and then all three of you sprint down the hall.

“Dirk- What’s going on?!” Jane’s panicked yell reaches your ears as you turn towards the stairs.

“Long story short, I left Dave outside.”

You don’t even have to look back to imagine Jane’s face scrunching up in anger.

“Excuse me  _ WHAT?! _ ”

“I KNOW,  _ bad _ idea, I get it. Now keep running.”

Your feet keep tripping over each other and slipping on the steps as you descend. It slows you down, forcing you to grab the railing.

At least that lets the Egberts catch up to you. You don’t even recall when you gained so much distance, and you don’t exactly care.

You need to make sure Dave’s safe.

But you don’t get to do that just yet.

Your legs freeze up the moment you reach the bottom floor, and you stare ahead of you. Even the push from John running into you doesn’t move you forward. He peers around you to see why you stopped, and he stiffens.

The body.

That  _ corpse _ .

It’s moving.

Twitching, jerking, fidgeting like it’s having a seizure. Limbs flail aimlessly, rotating in full circles. Nails dig into the wooden tiles everytime its hands graze them, leaving deep wet scratches with some of those claws lodged in them. 

Its head shakes and bounces, continuously hitting the ground with its face over and over and over. Flattening its nose, cracking its lips, breaking its teeth, crushing its eyes. Blood splatters all over the floor as the once person-like being becomes unrecognizable, facial features replaced with a glistening mush that breaks off and splats against the ground like some fucked up gore puree.

Then it stops. The banging stops. It continues to lay in a crimson pool of its own making. Once again motionless.

Until its back starts arching up. It rises, leaving the rest of the meatsack laying perfectly still. It’s like the spine is the only thing that’s moving. It pushes, wriggles under the skin, escaping from the muscled cage around it. The back bulges, pulses, a hump growing and growing and stretching everything in its way. The stained fabric rips first as it gets pushed to its limit. Then the skin follows. Tearing, rupturing, giving way to the bright red insides as the growth keeps expanding, pushing, begging to be released.

And then it bursts open.

Scarlet sprays everywhere. Viscera flies across the room, hitting and sticking to anything in its path. And  _ it _ emerges from the epicenter of the goresplosion.

_ It _ . The  _ thing _ .  _ Being. Parasite. _

A centipede-like creature, longer than you are tall, insect legs of all lengths and widths slipping out from in between the bloody tissues with reverberating meaty squelches. Some of the limbs wide and imposing, with serrated talons at the ends. Some long and thin, with needle-like spines. The rest short and cluttered, moving in jerky waves. It unfurls, clicking, hissing, cracking, scuttling up the nearby wall. Each of its segments pulses with faint light, twitches, jitters in rhythm. Its antennae survey the room and it twists, legs skittering in perfect unison.

It heads towards the window.

Outside.

_ Where Dave- _

You don’t notice when your legs unlock and rush you forwards. You don’t hear Jane yelling after you. You don’t see John almost fall over from your sudden lurch forward. You don’t react when they run off in different directions.

All you know is that  _ it _ 's going for Dave.

And you can’t let that happen.

Your arms wrap around the chitinous body the moment you’re in range. And then you pull. And pull. 

It scratches at the window frame, pushing forward. You don’t let go. Clutching. Tugging. Yanking.

Next second  _ its _ body whips around and you’re sent flying. You crash into your old friend, the wall. Limbs curl up from the impact. The view blurs. All sound drowns in the deafening ringing. Warmth drips down the back of your neck. You struggle to keep your eyes open as you slide against the wall, onto the floor.

Among the fuzzy splotches you see Jane, peeking out of the kitchen. You see her lips move but don’t hear anything. She must be yelling at you. 

Your head lolls to the side, away from her. Your eyelids feel heavy.

Then you hear a piercing scream. 

The world comes into view and sharpens, focuses. Your previously slowing pulse launches right back into overdrive.

John hangs from one of the parasite’s legs. He swings, struggles, trying to break free, while it holds him by his shirt, not bothered in the slightest. Sharp serrated claws draw near, ready to plunge deep into his flesh.

You lunge before you can process your own movements. Arms reach forward, locking the spindly limb in your grip the moment you make contact, and you press. Hard.

The carapace shatters. The joint snaps off. The momentum flings John towards Jane, yet sends you staggering closer to the beast.

“RUN!” You cry out as your head swims again.

You don’t hear Jane calling after you. You don’t see them leave.

But you do feel. You feel the impact on your side. The air whizzing past you. The floor burning you as you skid across it. The warm liquid flowing from your nose.

Your legs are stiff with a pounding ache. Your arms slip out from under you. Your back refuses to straighten. 

And yet you still pick yourself up. Wide-stanced and hunched over, swaying on your unstable limbs. Your own heartbeat overpowers any other sound.

The creature looms over you. Its needle and saw-like legs fan out, threatening to cut and tear you into nothing but shreds.

They pin you to the wall instead. Form a cage around you. The wall starts cracking from the force. You don’t take your eyes off of it.

Two sharp claws shoot out at you. At your face. 

Then they stop. 

And you notice. Your hands are holding them back. Shivering from the tension.

A standstill forms. You, unwilling to let go. It, thirsty for blood.

Then pain.

Sharp. Stinging. Burning.

There. 

In your side.

There’s a limb in your side. Stabbed right through.

Your shirt soaks up the blood.

Vision dims, blurs, fades. 

An arm falters. Loses grip.

A claw grazes your forehead.

Crimson stains the world.

Before everything.

Goes.

Black.


	4. Chapter 4

A young man stands in a room, completely still. Crimson and olive staining his visage. The world around him in an eternal pause. Silent. Holding its breath.

The front door creaks. The illusion breaks.

The man comes closer.

The door he previously thought was locked now jostles in the wind.

The lock is busted.

Did he do that?

He can’t tell, the image is too blurry.

His bloodied hand reaches for the doorknob.

It gives and twists.

Sunlight floods in.

Three silhouettes fade into view.

Nervously waiting for their friend.

Waiting for you.

And you...

You’re alive.

...

Jane catches you before you fall flat on your face.

“Dirk!” Her voice booms right by your ear. “Can you hear me?! Oh my god, are you okay?”

You slowly raise your head and blink your eyes open. Jane is looking right at you, wide-eyed and quivering. Her face is just inches away from yours. 

Instead of answering, you let your eyes sweep to the side, and settle on the other two standing a bit further away. John and Dave are in a tight embrace, both shaking like leaves in the wind. John is hiding his face in Dave’s chest, while Dave is staring at... you? No, not at you,  _ past _ you.

Holy shit you’re tired.

You’re just now realising how hard it is to just keep standing. Dull aching pain spreading and pulsating all over your body.

“DIRK!!!”

“I- I’m fine.” You snap back to reality enough to choke out a response. Your throat feels like it’s full of razor blades, reflected in the serious smoker’s rasp you have going on.

You see Jane’s lips moving. You hear her, presumably scolding you over your recklessness.

But you can’t-

You can’t quite focus on the words.

It’s like your grip on reality is just as feeble as your trembling legs. Ready to slip back into the realm of dissociation at a moment’s notice. 

You let your head hang down again. Mainly because keeping it all nice and upright is starting to make your neck sore, but also because you don’t really want to meet Jane’s accusing gaze.

You need to ground yourself. Before you slip back to being just an observer to your own actions.

Focus on your body. See how your arms hang limply. Feel the gentle yet strong embrace Jane is holding you in. Notice the way your grimy hair gets tussled by the wind. 

It’s all real.

You’re real.

You’re here.

And you’re... sticky. And wet.

There’s blood...  _ everywhere _ .

Your hands, your hoodie, your pants, your shoes, probably even your face, it’s all glistening and moist and a splotchy mess of dark red and sickly yellow-green.

Everything cuts out.

And then you’re back, lying face first on the ground. You hear Jane fussing and hovering over you, as well as John asking her if you’re going to be alright.

The voices fade out again when pain flares up at the back of your head. It sizzles and buries straight into your brain.

You suppose you did hit a wall hard enough to do more serious damage.

You blindly try to move your arm to prop yourself up, making both Egberts pause at your pained groan.

John is the first one to speak up.

“Dirk? Is everything ok?”

You grunt and gasp for air as you struggle to get back up. “I-  _ ack _ . Could be...  _ aghh _ ... b- _ hhh _ -etter.” You try to keep yourself upright, swaying from side to side, feeling the nausea creep up your throat.

Your squirming insides ease up just a little bit when Jane puts her firm arm on your back.

“Now now buster, you shouldn’t be overexerting yourself.” She’s trying to sound confident, despite the tremble in her voice. She picks you up by your armpits with ease, and you immediately lean on her. Your vision blinks with fuzzy spots before settling on a mildly blurry state.

Then, you start walking. One shakey step at a time, as Jane drags you along by the elbow. You just let her. Your brain feels like it just got beaten to a pulp and then thrown into a blender on the juice setting. The resulting mindstew just flowing out of your ears like a tap.

You let your eyes dart around and examine what the actual fuck is going on. 

Jane is holding onto you so tightly you think she might be cutting off some of the blood vessels in your arm. Judging from the sheer amount of liquid splattered all over you though, this might not be the worst idea. John is clutching onto Jane’s other side, glancing around in a similarly anxious manner, and Dave is...

Wait.

“Where’s Dave?”

Jane comes to an abrupt stop, going completely rigid. It takes all of your arm’s muscle power to keep you from falling forward.

All three of you look around.

Dave is standing right where you first saw him, staring intently in the direction of Egberts’ ex-household. At the now wide open door. Completely frozen in place.

John calls after him. He turns and blinks in your direction, furrowing eyebrows in thought before breaking out of his stupor.

“Shit,” he shakes his head, “my bad. I’m coming!”

He jogs up to you and reaches to grab your hand, but...

He hesitates.

You can’t really blame him. You can guess you look pretty filthy.

Instead Dave settles on holding John’s hand. He nods to Jane, and the movement begins again. You’d feel embarrassed by how your first few steps were less walking and more stumbling, but your mind can’t focus long enough to even think about that.

Nobody says anything.

The neighbourhood passes you by as the world fades in and out of your view. Similar images repeat ad nauseum. It’s all the same no matter where you look. White houses, green lawns, disconcerting red puddles and torn up fences. It’s like this whole place is a loop, and you are trapped in it. The only thing changing is the sky, subtly shifting from blue to the painterly mix of sunset pinks and reds.

You can’t help but notice how bright the sky looks. How the paleness of the houses almost burns your retinas.

Then it clicks.

Your shades are missing.

Fuck.

They must have fallen off when…

When you were…

Your head swims. You don’t remember. The last hour or so seems like a complete blur.

It’s probably fine. It’ll all come back to you later, once you feel a bit better.

That’s how that works, right?

...

After a while the repetitive suburban environment gives way to a much more lush, green area. Only then do you realise Jane has been leading you down a different route than you went in. Understandable, she probably knows more about this place compared to you. You’re also in no shape to be jumping through private property, so you’ll treat it as a net gain.

The park around you feels unfittingly serene. Despite the broken branches and fallen trees, the place seems less touched by whatever swept its way through the neighbourhood, conspicuous sickly green puddles aside.

“What happened here?” Dave leans over and whispers to Jane.

“The meteor shower. It was especially intense here.” Her voice is even lower, barely louder than a breath.

“You think we got some aliens travelling on them or something?” 

She doesn’t respond.

Nobody does.

It’s very quiet.

Too quiet.

A distant shuffling makes you quicken your pace.

You can’t get back home fast enough.

...

Your mind blanks out for the rest of the journey until you all reach the parking lot. Your dad’s car is still standing there, completely untouched. The lack of any damage feels off after everything you’ve seen.

Nevertheless, you detach yourself from Jane despite her protests and hobble forwards. You don’t look back at her, but from her sigh you can imagine she’s shaking her head at you.

The car blinks its lights as you approach, unlocking its doors. 

You... didn’t do that. 

The keys are still resting in your pocket, untouched since you first left the lot.

How did that...

Before your mind can run down the worst possible scenarios, you hear something jingle next to you. You look down to see Dave grinning at you, shaking a spare set of keys in your face.

You can’t say you’re surprised he swept them up before leaving.

He drags John with him and leaps onto the backseat, fiddling with the seatbelt until John runs out of patience and buckles him up.

Your hand reaches for the handle on the driver’s side. Before you can open the door, Jane pulls you away from it.

“Oh no-no-no, you are not going to be our designated driver in this state! No way. Off to the passenger’s seat you go. Now. Shoo.” She waves you out of her way.

You open your mouth to shoot back a retort, but shut it when nothing comes out. You shamble back to the other side of the car in defeat.

The way you plop down on your seat startles John, which in turn sends Dave into a giggling fit. You hear them start bickering in the back. Jane just rolls her eyes. 

She takes the keys from Dave and starts the engine, before staring you down with the most intense death glare.

Oh.

Right.

You’re just limply half-sitting half-lying in the seat, not even bothering to get your seatbelt. Jane reaches over and buckles you up, her frowned brows briefly giving way to a worried furrow.

The car vibrates as it begins to move. You let your head roll to the side, letting you look out the window. The whirring of the engine fills your ears, with the occasional whispered joke from behind you breaking up the pattern.

Sounds begin growing distant.

Vibrations fade into a low hum.

The view out of the window becomes unfocused, blurry.

Your eyes start to close, lids heavy.

Reality starts to drift away, as sleep takes hold over you.

...

“Hey, Dirk.”

A gentle shake on your shoulder jostles you awake. You look to the other side to see Jane, concerned eyes locked with yours.

“Is everything alright?”

You attempt to nod, but your stiff neck only lets you do a jerky half-motion.

“Do you need anything? I could pull over and get you some water.”

“‘m fine..." Your sore throat and scratchy voice would like to say otherwise.

“Dirk..." She shifts in her chair. “What... What happened there?”

You tilt your head in confusion, which immediately makes your neck crack in pain and regret. The backseat falls deathly quiet.

“When we ran out of the house, after you saved John. We heard commotion inside and saw some movement from the windows, but…”

Jane notices you frown in thought.

“If you were... by the window..." The buffering in your brain takes an abnormal amount of time. “Shouldn’t you have seen it?”

Jane looks away, wide-eyed and troubled. John pipes up from the back.

“We were there only for a moment, to get Dave.”

Jane seems relieved for a moment, and continues. “I lead both of them away, to the front of the house. To be frank, we were all too scared to look inside. We..."

She trails off and falls completely silent. Her focus fully back on the road.

Your eyes begin to close when someone else pipes in.

“We thought you wouldn’t survive.”

The uncalled-for comment makes Jane flinch.

“ _ Dave! _ ” The Egberts both call out at once.

“What? We did think that, didn’t we?” There’s a clear bitterness in his voice. “You were all like ‘How about we don’t give the two of you traumatic memories with the sight of your dead friend-slash-brother’ and held us so close you’d think we were waiting for a massive tsunami to hit us because of the inevitable end of the world that was happening. Well, newsflash, we were already traumatized by the big fuck off alien centipede going straight for both of us before Bro jumped in and saved us and-”

“That’s enough.” Jane’s stern command echoes in the tight space.

An awkward silence falls. There’s some shuffling coming from the back, as well as some whispering. You can’t make out what they’re saying.

Eventually, Jane sighs again and clears her throat.

“Anyhow, yes. If you could tell us what happened, then please. I’m sure we’d all appreciate some clarity on the matter.”

You lean back in your seat and think.

Think.

Think.

_ Fucking. Think. _

But nothing comes to mind. 

You can’t... 

You can’t remember anything.

It’s all so blurry. 

Faded. 

Distant. 

_ Too quick _ .

“I… I-I..." Your voice is shaking.

Jane smiles softly, nodding in encouragement.

“Take your time.”

You try.

You batter at your brain from all angles.

Look for any trace of some lingering memory.

But it’s no use.

All you’re left with is a big pile of nothing.

“I don’t... I don’t know.”

She looks at you, brows raised in a mix of confusion and concern.

“It’s all just... I can’t..."

“Is your mind too fuzzy to remember?”

The gentle tone takes you by surprise, but you slowly nod your head. She sighs.

“Alright, then I won’t pry any further until you feel a bit better.”

That’s a relief. You want to say so to Jane, but you’re already drifting off again. Darkness welcomes you back like an old friend.

“I was just... worried, you know?”

Your eyelids feel heavy, forcing you to close your eyes.

“It’s not everyday that I have to, well, drive my literally bloody friend to his own home.”

Your breathing slows to a crawl.

“It’s just been such a hectic day, what with all the threats to our lives.”

“I’ve been so stressed over everything, waiting for my father, keeping John safe, hoping everything would turn out okay... I miss him.”

A mist envelops your mind, cutting o-

“And then you showed up!”

“Personally, I’m so surprised you’ve survived. I-in a positive sense of course.”

“I frankly thought you were going to collapse the moment you shambled out the door!”

“You almost gave us all a heart attack when you passed out there! I mean, I did look you over right then to make sure you wouldn’t just, well,  _ leave _ us immediately, but it was still terrifying! After seeing that... thing back there, I thought nothing could be scarier, and then there you were!”

“Of course I… ... ... ..." And she just keeps going. You can no longer pay attention to what it is she is saying.

It soon dawns on you there’s no way you can sleep in this fucking environment regardless, despite your best efforts. It’s not just Jane’s constant borderline Daveist rambling keeping you up, although it is a major factor in your naptime’s undoing. You are in a car, afterall. The vibrations are making you more achey than you already are, and the turn signal soon drills its methodical beeping into your brain whenever Jane falls quiet.

Life really just hates your guts today.

“... ... ...so I really just don’t know how to rea-”

“Jane.”

Your sharp interruption makes her jump and completely lose track of what she was saying. A moment of tense silence follows, as even the backseat duo holds their breath. It takes all of your focus to not completely stumble or slur over your words.

“Please, just- Can’t I, jus’, have at least a b- a  _ little _ bit o’ sleep?”

Jane looks away sheepishly, but doesn’t say anything. You grunt as you shift in your seat.

“You- Didn’t you say you won’t- wouldn’ pry, any further?”

She keeps her gaze off of you, drumming her fingers against the wheel. The next time she speaks, her voice is hushed, dripping with guilt.

“I... I’m worried that... you won’t wake up.”

The pin drops and scratches the record that is your thought process. Jane waits for a moment before taking your stunned silence as a sign to continue.

“I know, I have first aid training, and I do know how to handle concussions, but that’s all just in theory! I’ve never seen one in real life, and the instructor didn’t show us that much, so what if I get something wrong? You- It’s-... I’ve never seen you like this before Dirk. I’m just... I’m really scared...”

You stay quiet. Brain buffering and churning the information that has just been dumped onto you without warning. You can see Jane getting increasingly more unsure the longer you stall.

So you break the tension.

“...Ok.”

Jane freezes and stares at you in... disbelief?

“Okay?? Wh-”

“Okay, fine, I’ll talk. About... Whatev’. Some shit. I don’t know- I- Fuck. It’s hard to focus but I- I’ll try. Not like I could pass out in- in here anyway. Unlike some br-baby who can’t stay ‘wake for a drive to KFC.”

Dave kicks the back of your seat.

“HEY!” 

John snickers at him. 

“I’ve been doing pretty well today, thank you very much! And dad does it too, you know.”

“Thas’ why I’ve been the ds... desee... de-si-gna-ted driver, for the past, what, sev’ral months? And that’s why I’m gonna be the one teachin’ you to drive.”

Jane rolls her eyes at the both of you.

“Are you sure you should be thinking about that already?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t mean to pry, Dirk, but don’t you only have your learner’s?”

“...Your point?”

She smirks.

“Isn’t it illegal to drive with a minor in the car?”

Dave bursts out laughing and joins John’s wheezing.

“BUSTED!” They call out simultaneously. You groan.

“Come ooon, ‘s fine with parental sup’rvisi’n.”

“Oh, are you your own legal guardian then? I don’t recall seeing your father with you.”

...Shit, she is technically right. You were really fucking lucky that you were just told to scram back when you got pulled over.

You’re not about to give up your pride though. You’re in too fucking deep. The quicksand of conversational shame will not take your life this time, hell no.

“I  _ tried _ to get him to stay. I told that little b- asshole to just wait f’r me like a good younger brother would.”

“Yup.” You don’t see him, but you can imagine him nodding like a goddamn bobblehead.

“Obviously, as y- you can plainly see, he did not listen.”

“Nope. You really should have expected that.”

You fail to resist the urge to turn your head and stick your tongue out at Dave. He returns the gesture in kind. Jane giggles at your brotherly shenanigans.

“I frankly don’t see how those imaginary driving lessons would ever work out.”

You settle back and raise an eyebrow at her.

“Oh yeah? Any better candidates be- between me, master at parking, and Da- a guy that dozes off aft’r driving outta state?”

“Yes, and I’m even going to exclude myself out of the equation, despite actually having a full license. Unlike someone else in the car.”

You huff and dramatically look away. Jane stifles another chuckle.

“Let’s be clear here, my father would do the best job here, no competition.”

“Hmmm..." You rub your chin, pretending to think very hard on it. Then you just shrug with one shoulder, because the other feels numb and hurts when you try to move it. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

You don’t let yourself get lost again. Your friends, your brother, they need you.

Even if sleeping isn’t an option, you can rest right here, like this, with them. You’re all safe.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait ya'll. Had to get the motivation to do the art for this chapter.  
> Speaking of art, I'll be reducing the amount of it I do per chapter. Instead of three-four images, I'll be doing one-two per chapter. That way I'll be able to get this shit out faster without burning myself out.


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